Arry
by Vero Shino
Summary: An AU fic based on the Czech film 'Kolya'. Chan-slash, sorta.
1. Default Chapter

            I walked into the church and climbed the stairs to the loft, case in hand, as I do most days of the week.  Once in the loft, I opened my case, setting up my music and removing my cello to make sure it was tuned before I needed to play.  The other musicians were talking idly, as they often did, and occasionally I would join in with their chatter, but for the most part I quietly looked over my music and tuned my instrument.

            My name is Severus Snape.  I was born here in Czech, along with my brother, with a Czech mother and a British father.  I once played the cello in the Czech philharmonic, but, after I was arrested for assault, I was asked to leave because of the bad publicity it earned me.  Personally, I think it had more to do with the philharmonic wanting to please the Russians by instating Russian musicians. But that is why, in 1988, I was playing my cello at funerals, renewing memorial plaques and other large, engraved pieces, and giving lessons to aspiring cellists in order to pay back the old friend of mine who had bailed me out of jail.  

            It was later in that day that began like so many others that I met with my old friend.  As I was handing him what I had to spare to continue clearing off my debt to him for that week, he looked at me with the twinkle in his eye that made me listen to what ever he had to say very tentatively.

            "I was told of a certain… proposition today that you may be interested in, Severus." 

            I raised an eyebrow in response and he continued.

            "A proposition that would allow you to pay your debt to me and have money left to spare."

            I frowned,

            "Could you possibly get to the point, Albus?"

            I knew his beard barely concealed a smirk,

            "There is a woman whose niece desires to become a citizen of the republic.  Her niece is willing to pay a handsome fee to the man who agrees to marry her, thus allowing her to become a citizen."

            I sighed,

            "You know that I will never marry, Albus.  I haven't the time or patience for it."

            "Indeed, I know, but this is a golden opportunity, Severus.  All you would have to do is marry the girl, concede that you are married to her for 10 months, and then divorce her on the grounds that you 'weren't ready for the commitment' or 'lost the spark'.  Only that, and you will have your debt completely repaid."

            I gave another sigh.  It was true that I desperately wanted to clear my debt to Albus; any spare money I had every week went to him.  This "proposition", however, seemed a bit too easy,

            "You're certain that I would only have to be married to her for 10 months?  That I wouldn't have to do anything else, and that she would pay me upfront?"

            "I am positive," Albus insisted.

            I looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, before his grandchildren came bounding into the room, Albus's wife stepping in after them.  They ran to embrace him, and one put a small pup she'd been holding down.  As she turned to retrieve it, she saw that it had crept over to sniff at my shoes curiously.  She picked the puppy up again and seemed to notice how put off I was by the presence of both her and the animal.

            "Don't you have any pets of your own?" she asked.

            I shook my head,

            "No."

"Any children?"

"No."

She cocked her head and gazed at me for a moment before Albus's wife came to usher her into another room with the other children.  I turned to look at Albus, but got up from the table,

"I'm afraid I'll have to be going.  I will… think about what we discussed."

Albus nodded,

"Very well.  I will see you next week, then, Severus."

I stood at the door,

"Indeed.  Good bye."

It was a week later that I sat in Albus's house with two Russian women, two Russian boys, and Albus himself.  One of the women, who appeared closer in age to Albus than to myself, spoke both Russian and Czech fluently.  Her niece, who desired to become a citizen, spoke only Russian and German.  Thus, I was forced to talk to the young woman through her aunt.  I cleared my throat,

"Those boys are hers?"

The older woman shook her head,

"No, no.  Dimitri is her son," she gestured to the portlier of the two,

"Harry is her nephew.  She was charged with care of him after the death of her sister and her sister's husband.  They were the black sheep of the family; she should've known better than to marry an Englishman-"

"My father was an Englishman, madam," I interrupted.

She seemed a bit flustered,

"Well, at least your father had the good sense to not give you a name that can't even be pronounced in your native tongue."

I inclined my head to look down my nose at her,

"Hmm.  Well…  I suppose everything is in order, then.  We'll be married October 24th at St. Paul's Church, make sure all the appropriate papers are filed, and in August we will divorce.  The only remaining matter is the…dowry, shall we say?"

The older woman nodded her head and reached into her purse.  She slid two thick packs of bills wrapped in plastic across the table,

"Twenty-thousand, as promised."

I nodded, taking the money.

We were married as planned, with a modest but not meager service, to which I invited the members of the church ensemble.  The woman and her aunt paid for everything, and things went off without a hitch.  I was as unencumbered as I had ever been, my debt repaid and an ample amount of money remaining.  Things seemed to be looking up for the first time in a long while.  The prosperity was to be short-lived, however.

Albus called me some 6 weeks after my 'wedding' and asked me to meet him at a nearby hole-in-the-wall bar.  I arrived promptly to see him sitting at a table looking rather worrisome.  He looked up as I sat down and gave me a weak smile that belied the look in his eyes that said he had bad news.

"Is everything alright, Albus?"

He sighed, shaking his head,

"I don't know how to tell you this, Severus.  Petuniya is gone."

I gave him a confused frown,

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

He sighed again,

"I just spoke with her aunt this morning.  Apparently she has a lover in Germany.  She's run off to be with him, and taken her son with her.  She left her aunt a note and evidently didn't bother taking her nephew with her."

I shook my head, still not understanding,

"Why did she want to become a Czech citizen if she were going to run off to Germany anyway?"

"She became a Czech citizen for the purpose of running off to Germany.  Russians cannot travel into Western Germany, but if they become naturalized citizens here, they can."

I sat back in my chair, nonplussed.  I knew it had been too easy.  Why would anyone so desperately want to become a citizen of Czech?  Russians got better treatment here, anyway.  I looked up as Albus spoke again,

"The police will probably come to question you about it.  You'll have to have a believable story to tell them by the time you have to talk to them."

I nodded mutely.  Albus reached forward to pat me on shoulder,

"Don't worry, Severus.  I'm sure things will be fine."

He stood, bid me good-bye, and left.  I sat there for some time.  It seemed the very opportunity to pay off the debt for my bail could very likely put me in jail.  Things were looking decidedly down, but it was one of the many times in my life when I learned not to think things couldn't get worse.

I was playing my cello in my apartment one rainy afternoon when there was a knock at my door.  I paused in my playing, feeling a slight stir of anxiety as I wondered if the police had finally come to question me.  I walked to the door and opened it to reveal a man in a medical technician's uniform.  The man looked grave as he spoke to me,

"Severus Snape?"

I nodded and he continued, gesturing to the boy I had not previously noticed who stood hanging his head behind the man,

"You are this boy's step-uncle?"

I felt my eyebrows shoot up a bit at this, but then suddenly realized that the boy was none other than Petuniya's orphan nephew.  I nodded again,

"Yes, I am."

The man gave me a calculating look before saying,

"His… aunt… has had a stroke.  She's been taken to St. Francis Hospital, and you are the boy's only known relative within the country.  I'm going to have to leave him with you."

I looked back and forth between man and boy with disbelief.  Leave him?  With me? 

"What?  No, no, you don't understand.  I really don't know the boy at all; we're very distant-"

The man shouted over his shoulder,

"You'll have to do, sir.  There's no one else," and he walked away.

I stood there for a moment, nonplussed at the situation, before I again took notice of my new burden.  He stared down at the floor, looking by all accounts like a beaten dog, holding a suitcase at his side.  I frowned and sighed,

"Well, come in, then."

He continued to stare down, not moving.  I heaved another sigh and took his suitcase from him,

"Come in, come in!" I pushed him inside and shut the door behind him.  I sat his suitcase on my bed and turned to him.  He still kept his eyes downcast, and I took in his appearance.  His clothes were considerably too large for him and seemed old and worn.  His glasses were broken at the bridge and had been taped back together.  I looked down at his feet and found them encased in what was presumably once a pair of shoes, but now were not much more than torn, tattered scraps of leather.  My frown deepened, if possible,

"Do you have any other shoes?"

He raised his head a bit as though he'd heard, but didn't reply,

"Do you have anything else to put on your feet?  A pair of slippers, perhaps?"

He remained mute, and I sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time since I'd opened my door. I unzipped his suitcase, finding that he did have a pair of slippers that looked no less second-hand than his clothes, but certainly would have been warmer than his shoes.  I handed them to him,

"There, put those on."

He looked up at me, then looked between me and the slippers before finally taking them from me and putting them on.  I moved to my telephone, turning to the boy as I picked up the receiver,

"Don't touch anything."

Albus responded to the news of my situation with his normally unsettling amount of wise-seeming laxness,

"He's just a boy, Severus; it can't do you much harm to look after him while his aunt is infirmed-"

"Look after him while-?  You are very mistaken if you think I'm going to be responsible for this urchin for one _day_, Albus-"

"You're the only one he has, Severus…"

"I'm bringing him to your house _right now-"_

"Severus, you know my grandchildren are staying with me for their winter break; I couldn't possibly care for another child."

I scoffed, but couldn't find the words for any rebuttal.  At length, I sighed and ran a hand through my mass of dark hair, and Albus apparently found this a fit response,

"Just let him have a bath and send him to bed.  It's not all that difficult, Severus."

I eyed the boy who had moved to peer over the windowsill to see the pigeons sharpening their beaks on it,

"That's easy for you to say."

With that, I hung up the phone and moved to the boy's suitcase; I hoped it held within its contents something with which he could occupy himself.  At the bottom of the case, almost as if the boy had tried to hide it, I found some scraps of paper and two pencils.  I laid them on my kitchenette table,

"Here, come and draw."

The boy stayed staring out the window at the birds.

"Come draw something."

He did not move a muscle.  I sighed again, wondering if I wouldn't be bald from yanking my hands through my hair before the boy was finally gone.  Realizing I was getting nowhere, I relented and picked up one of the chairs from the table, carrying it over to him.  I set it down behind him and gestured for him to sit,

"There, go ahead and be pigheaded.  What do I care?"

The boy gave me a curious look, then gave a similar look to the chair before sitting down and continuing to watch the birds.  

Around the time I was beginning to consider how much I really wanted the boy clean, there was a knock at my door.  I rose to answer it, and found there a girl I had been teaching to play the cello.

"Ms. Granger…  Do we have a lesson today?"

The girl nodded fervently,

"Yes, sir."

I sighed…  I could not remember ever sighing so much in one day.

"I'm afraid I'll have to cancel it, Ms. Granger.  An unforeseen circumstance has arisen, and-" I paused, considering something I thought I'd heard the bookish girl mention,

"Ms. Granger, you speak Russian, don't you?"

She nodded again,

"Yes, sir."

I was so pleased by the response it was hard to not grin in lieu of replying.  I strode quickly to fetch the boy, grabbing his wrist and hauling him to the door.  I stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder,

"This is my… step-nephew.  He came into my care under rather confusing circumstances, and I'm afraid he only speaks Russian…  If you could ask him a few things, I'd be very appreciative."

The girl nodded again,

"I'll do what I can, sir."

"Thank you.  Ask him what his name is."

Ms. Granger looked at me strangely,

"You don't know his-"

"Just _ask him, please, Ms. Granger."_

The girl pursed her lips but looked to the boy without further question and spoke to him in Russian.  He replied, and Ms. Granger looked to me,

"I think he means to say his name is Harry, but he can't pronounce the 'H' well."

I nodded,

"Very good.  Ask him how old he is."  

Again she spoke to the boy and he answered her in a shy-sounding tone; at his response to that question, Ms. Granger seemed surprised,

"He says he's 15."

I felt my brow furrow in disbelief as I looked at the boy, taking stock of his height and build,

"Fifteen?  He doesn't look a day over 13, if that.  Are you certain that's what he said?"

Ms. Granger turned to the boy and again they conversed in Russian.  When they finished, she looked up at me, a piteous look in her eyes,

"He says he knows he doesn't look his age because his aunt didn't feed him much, and his clothes make him look small because they're hand-me-downs."

I frowned,

"I see.  Thank you, then, Ms. Granger; that will be all today.  You may return next week; by then I will certainly be free to give you your lesson."

The girl nodded,

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."

She walked out, leaving me again alone with the boy.  I sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day and found myself groping for something to say when there was another knock at the door.  I opened it to find my landlady standing there, a basket of laundry on her hip.

"Sorry to bother you Mr. Snape, but I thought I would remind you that everyone is expected to put up a Russian flag; they're judging the best decorated building again this week."

I narrowed my eyes,

"Again?  Haven't we done enough for those people already?"

The woman shook her head,

"I don't make the rules, Mr. Snape, I'm just hoping to keep you out of trouble."

I nodded,

"Yes, I know.  Thank you."

I closed the door and walked to my desk where I kept my flags:  our flag and the Russian flag.  I'd put up one of each, so no one could say I had truly given in, but neither could I be persecuted for not decorating.  I felt the boy's eyes upon me as I was putting up the flags, then suddenly he spoke,

"Ours is red."  The words were spoken slowly as if he were unsure of them, but what he said was unmistakable.  I turned abruptly to look at him, nonplussed,

"So, you can speak some Czech."

"Ours is red," he repeated, more clearly and assuredly this time.

I shrugged slightly, gesturing to the flag,

"What's so beautiful about it?  We used to put your flag up in gratitude, but now we do it because we are forced to.  Your people are like insects; they come in and set up shop, regardless of whether they are wanted or not."

The boy looked at me, his expression curious but confused.  I sighed (again) and moved away from the window,

"You should have a bath."

He looked at me over the rims of his old, broken glasses.  I realized that I was hoping for too much, and walked to grab him by the wrist again.  I pulled him to the bathroom and started filling the tub.  The boy gave me a curious look and started backing out of the room.

"No," I told him, "the bath is for you.  Come on."  I gestured for him to undress but he just looked up at me shyly.  I rolled my eyes,

"Alright, if I leave you alone can I trust you to bathe yourself?"

He still didn't seem to understand, so I walked toward the door and ask him again.  He nodded this time, if not understanding the question, at least understanding that a question had been asked.

"Alright.  I'll leave you to it."

I walked out, sitting down on my playing chair.  I scrubbed my face with my hands before reaching for my cello and beginning to play.  Time passed without my knowledge, and I soon opened my eyes to find the boy pulling clothes from his suitcase with one hand as he clutched a towel around his hips with the other.  It was then I became aware of just how underfed the boy was:  his ribs protruded from his chest, and the bumps of his spine were grotesquely visible through his back.  I frowned in distaste, but did not stop playing.  The boy must have thought I had not noticed him because he dropped his towel right in front of me and dressed himself for bed.  At length, I stopped playing,

"Feeling better, then?"

He jumped slightly as I spoke, but seemed to relax as he looked up at me and nodded.  I wondered again if he truly understood the question or rather if he just knew a question had been asked.  I moved to my dresser and pulled out some nightclothes before walking to the bathroom and changing into them.  There was only one bed in my apartment, and the couch was not large enough to be slept on.  That left only the option of him sleeping in bed with me; something I was not looking forward to.  I emerged from the bathroom and turned down the bed sheets, sliding underneath them.  The boy stood beside the bed, looking at me.

"Well, get in, then."

He gestured to the bed, and I nodded,

"Yes, get in."

He slowly pulled the covers on his side of the bed up, and just as slowly got under them, as if he were still not sure that this was what I had instructed.  Eventually, he lay on his side, facing away from me.  I was laying on my back, and noticed out of the corner of my eye (and from the vibration of the bed) that the boy appeared to be weeping.  I closed my eyes, quietly heaved a sigh and reached a hand out to his shoulder.  He flinched away violently and I glared,

"Fine, be that way."  I rolled to face away from him, and we fell asleep like that:  facing away from each other, clinging to our respective edges of the bed.


	2. chapter 2

I woke in the morning to find that the events of the previous day were not, in fact, simply a disturbing dream.  The boy was still asleep, or at least appeared so, clutching the edge of the bed as if he were terrified to move any closer toward the middle.  I got up from the bed and dressed for the funeral I would be playing at that morning.  Thoughts of what I would do with the boy were still milling around my mind, but I knew for certain I was going to have to take him to the funeral with me.  I roused him from bed and told him to get dressed.  Not surprisingly, he looked at me with the same curious and confused expression of the previous night.  I gave a sigh and walked to his suitcase, pulling out a set of clothes for him to wear and shoving them at him.  At length, he took them from me and retreated into the bathroom.  When he emerged, I had my cello packed up and I opened the door, beckoning for him to follow.  He stood watching me at first, but eventually fell into step behind me.

Along the walk to the church I often had to turn and look behind me to make sure the boy had not gotten distracted by something in a store window and stopped following me.  We came to a cross walk and I reached for the boy to make sure he would stay with me, but he demurred, moving out of my grasp.  I found I had to stand behind him and sort of herd him across the street; a most undignified exercise if I do say so myself.

Once at the church, the boy leaned over the edge of the loft, watching the funeral's progress.  At times he would lean so far over it made me wonder if he wouldn't fall right over the ledge.  At those times, I saw fit to poke him with my bow and gesture to him to sit down.  He seemed surprisingly perceptive of what these gestures meant and almost always obeyed, but eventually began to slowly rise over the edge of the loft again.

            I called Albus again and again, but again and again he objected to taking the boy from my care on the grounds that he and his wife were watching enough children as it was.  The boy slowly grew more and more aware of what different words meant when I said them to him, until, at length, he was able to speak more Czech than before.  He grew comfortable to living with my presence more easily than I did with living with his.  He seemed to become acclimated to walking (and eventually riding once I'd bought a car) along with me to my funeral performances and various other errands.  It was on the way to one such performance that I found Harry had truly grown to trust me.  As we made to cross the street as was always necessary to get to the church, I saw him look up at a sign, showing a man holding the hand of the boy who was crossing the street with him.  As the light showed it was safe to walk, he took hold of my hand, keeping it until we had reached the opposite side of the street.

            It was shortly after Harry's unsolicited display of trust that I decided the money his aunt had been keeping from him would be well spent on him.  I paused in playing my cello one day to look at what he was drawing.  I shouldn't have been so disturbed by what I saw, but something about Harry drawing a coffin being taken away back to the hearse in a funeral sent a shiver down my spine. Something in my mind snapped, and I decided then that the boy needed more exposure to the world than watching funeral after funeral.  After that, I took him out almost every day; to the movies, to carnivals.  At length, I realized that it was the summer, and I took him camping with a group of friends of mine and their sons.  By that time, Harry had learned how to speak Czech very well, but was hesitant to use his knowledge.  One night when we laid down inside the tent, Harry sat up in his sleeping bag and smiled at me.  I gave him a confused look,

            "What?"

            With that, Harry leaned down and kissed me on the cheek,

            "Good night, Severus."

            In retrospect, it's almost humorous how such a simple act could cause such an outpour of desperate, racing thoughts.  In truth, ever since Harry had taken my hand that day on the way to church I had been wondering just how he saw me.  Was his kiss just an act of innocent affection?  Did he feel no more for me than he would for any surrogate father figure?  And another thought that was as frightening as it was pressing was how I felt for him in return.  Frightening, I thought to myself, because deep down I knew just what kind of reaction would meet considering Harry more than just a charge and it was neither to scoff nor to be appalled.  But what if I were seeing something that wasn't even there?  Harry obviously trusted me to take my hand as he did, but he must have known that even between a father and a son his act would seem oddly affectionate.  Perhaps even romantic.  As I was worriedly turning these thoughts over in my mind, Harry was looking at me with the expression of curiousness and confusion.

            "Is something wrong?" he asked innocently.

            I did something I never do then:  I stuttered.

            "W-well, I…  I-I rather…"  I paused, collecting my thoughts,

            "Harry, why did you kiss me just now?"

            He looked nonplussed at my question, and I wondered if perhaps he didn't understand what I was asking him when abruptly he answered,

            "Because I love you."

            Before I could respond, he bid me good night again and lay down in his sleeping bag.


	3. chapter 3

            It was precious few days after Harry and I had returned from the camping trip that I was called to go down to the local police station.  I was told they had some 'questions' for me.  When we arrived, an officer told me that Harry should not go with me when I was being questioned, and made to usher him away from me.  Harry glared at the officer, taking hold of my hand with a grip like a vice and I looked up to the man,

            "You won't get him to leave me.  He doesn't trust anyone else."

            "He can't go with you while you're being questioned-"

            "His Czech isn't very good; he won't know what's being said anyway."

            The man gave a sigh and relented, allowing Harry to follow me into the room where I was to be questioned.  I walked in to find an amiable looking man sitting behind a desk.

            "Mr. Snape, come in, please.  Have a seat."  He looked at Harry curiously,

            "Didn't the officer outside tell you that you should come in alone?"

            "Yes, sir, but he conceded it would be alright because the boy's Czech is so poor."

            The man nodded,

            "Alright, then.  Well, the reason you're here Mr. Snape is because we're curious as to what transpired between you and your Russian bride," he looked at a file," it would appear you were married for 3 months when she mysteriously ran off to Germany, is that right?"

            "Yes, sir, that's correct."

            The man sighed,

            "Let me get straight to the point:  It seems as though you married this woman just so that she could get to western Germany.  The file I have here says that the two of you never even lived together."

            "Well, that's not entirely true.  We did live together for about 3 weeks, but she kept opening the windows:  She was used to Russian winters and frankly threatened to freeze me out of house and home."

            The man smiled,

            "Ah, I see.  Well, be that as it may, Mr. Snape, it also says here that the woman didn't even speak a serviceable amount of Czech.  What, pray tell, possessed you to marry a woman you couldn't even speak to?"

            My answers to such questions were long rehearsed, and I spat out my response quickly,

            "Love knows no boundaries, sir.  It's true that Petuniya didn't speak much Czech, but we understood each other well enough to know that we were in love."

            The man looked uncomfortable,

            "Yes, well-"

            At that moment, another officer barged into the room,

            "Enough of this!"  He leaned into my face,

            "The woman paid you to marry her so that she could go to western Germany!  It's as simple as that!"

            I put on a practiced expression of hurt,

            "No, sir, that's not it at all.  I had no idea that Petuniya had a lover in western Germany.  I suppose I should have known a young Russian woman would not truly want anything to do with me, but foolishly enough I believed."

            The man seemed prepared to snap at me again, but the other officer put a hand on his shoulder,

            "As anyone would, Mr. Snape.  You can go."

            I nodded and gestured to Harry who had been sitting quietly watching the 'interrogation' unfold.  As we were walking back home, Harry looked up at me, saying,

            "'What, pray tell, possessed you to marry a woman you couldn't even speak to?"

            I smiled,

            "A few more interrogations and your Czech will be perfect."

            He smiled back at me, taking up my hand even though we had long since crossed the street.

            That night, Harry started coughing.  His cough slowly progressed into a powerful, lung-heaving hack.  His face was flushed and he seemed to be sweating slightly.  Having no idea what to do for him, I called Albus.

            "Let him lie down and put a cold compress on his forehead.  I'll be over as soon as I can."

            Some twenty minutes later, Albus was hovering over the boy with me,

            "I believe he's caught a rather severe flu, Severus.  He's going to need constant care for the next few days.  Do you think you can handle it?"

            I looked at him curiously,

            "Of course I can handle it.  But he will be alright…?"

            Albus nodded,

            "In a few days he should be feeling fine.  Do you want me to stay to look after him?"

            Again I looked at him, confused,

            "No, I can do it myself just fine, thank you."

             Albus gave me one of his strange looks then, eyes twinkling,

            "Well, I'll leave him to your care, then.  Make sure he gets the medicine I brought; it should relieve some of his symptoms."

            Albus left, and I was again alone with my ill charge.  For better or for worse, however, he had grown to be more than just a charge.  The realization that I felt something deep and profound for Harry was slowly creeping up on me.  I sighed, moving to step away from the bed, when Harry reached out for my hand.

            "Severus…"

            I sank down to sit on the edge of the bed as he spoke,

            "Don't go.  Stay here, with me."

            I snorted a wry laugh,

            "You'll get me sick, too."

            "If … I get you sick…. I promise… I'll take care of you," he replied sleepily.

            Something ached inside me as he spoke these words, and when I was certain he had fallen asleep, I hesitantly leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead.  I moved around the bed to lie down beside my sick boy.  My last coherent thought before I drifted off to sleep was that I'd come to consider Harry not just 'the boy' but rather '_my_ boy'.


	4. chapter 4

            Harry's fever persisted through the first night, not breaking until some point during the second.  I stayed by his side constantly, sitting on the edge of the bed with him or bringing my chair over and playing beside the bed.  Throughout the ordeal, Harry would look up at me, a smiling face behind his mass of sweat dampened bangs.  I wondered how anyone could be so happy while he was ill.  It was on third day when his fever had broken during the night that I asked him how he was feeling.  He gave me a smile and said,

            "Wonderful."

            I scoffed,

            "You can't be feeling wonderful, even if you aren't feverish anymore."  He gave me an insistent look,

            "But I _do feel wonderful.  I feel wonderful because you're taking care of me."_

            Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door.  I sighed and stood up from the edge of the bed to answer it.  When I opened the door, there stood a well-dressed but skinny woman holding a briefcase.

            "Mr. Snape?"

            "Yes," I replied, nodding.

            "I'm Francesca Lenin from the Russian embassy.  You wrote to us some time ago about sending your step-nephew back to Russia?"

            I froze, groping for words,

            "No…  I mean, yes, yes, I did, but, it's alright now-"

            "May I come in Mr. Snape?"

            I hesitated, but realized I didn't have much choice,

            "Yes, alright."

            The woman stepped inside my apartment, looking around,

            "This room and the bathroom are the extent of your quarters?"

            I nodded,

            "Yes."

            "So the boy does not have his own room?"

            "No."

            "Where does he sleep?"

            "Where you see him now."

            The woman looked to Harry who sat up in the bed looking confused.

            "I see.  And where do you sleep?"

            "The bed is more than big enough for us both."

            "Hmm.  Why is he in bed at this hour?"

            "He's sick.  He has the flu."

            "Hmm," the woman replied again, scribbling something down into a notepad she had with her.

            "Well, Mr. Snape, seeing as how you obviously don't have the capacity to house him, I'm sure your step-nephew can be deported.  I'll be back with the subsequent papers in a few days."

            The woman walked out, her high heels tapping all the way.  I heaved a sigh when she was finally gone and looked to Harry.  Without a word, I started packing his suitcase.  Harry looked at me worriedly,

            "I'm going back to Russia?"

            I shook my head,

            "You're going somewhere, but it's not to Russia.  Just rest, I'll pack up your things."

            Thus we found ourselves on Albus's doorstep.  He was more than willing to let us stay once I explained the situation to him, and I soon found myself lying on his pull-out couch with Harry beside me.  I had noticed that it had been some time since Harry had clung to the edge of the bed like he first did when he had to sleep in bed with me.  There were, in fact, days I awoke to find his back spooned up against my front.  I stirring I felt from that was one too physically obvious to ignore, and I would often roll over so that my back was too him to prevent  him from waking up to find himself being poked by what was certainly no hand.  That particular night, however, when Harry rolled over and began the process of backing himself up against me, I stayed still.  I felt the familiar sensation in my nether regions, but I didn't turn over.  In truth, I wanted to know how Harry would respond, if at all, to feeling my erection pressed against him.  He paused as he was settling himself against me and I knew that he had felt it.  He stayed stock still for a moment, before finally pushing his bottom cheekily into my crotch and sighing as he fell asleep in that position.  It was a long, hard journey to sleep for me that night.  No pun intended.

            Thank you, Thank you, Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I deeply appreciate it.  I originally rated my fic R just to be safe, but for those of you who are itching for some smut I am considering trying to make it earn its rating.  Keep your reviews coming, they _do inspire me to write more.  Thanks again!_

                                                                                                                                                ~Vero


	5. Chapter 5

            I woke sometime in the middle of the night to find myself in the middle of an orgasm.  As I came down from the high, I realized I'd climaxed rubbing myself against Harry's boxers clad rump.  I heaved a sigh, peeling my now damp front away from Harry's bottom, but suddenly freezing as Harry made a sound almost like a whimper.  I remained frozen in place until at length Harry moved to press himself against me once again.  I sighed again, realizing my predicament.  I grabbed hold of my pillow, and in one fluid movement removed myself from Harry's back and replaced my presence with the pillow.  Knowing he may at some point realize the difference, I went quickly to the bathroom to clean myself up.  I cursed the boy's need to be pressed against me so, but a small voice in the back of my mind couldn't help but comment that I hadn't climaxed that hard in… Well, since I could remember.  I shook my head needlessly at the thought and returned to bed in a fresh pair of boxers.

            When morning came, I was relieved I hadn't made a repeat performance of the night's events.  Albus sat at his kitchen table, seeing me sit up in bed from the other room and beckoning for me to come and sit with him.  I got up, replacing myself with the pillow again.  I peered around the corner of the kitchen to make sure his wife wasn't up as well.  He chuckled as I took a seat across from him.

            "Good morning, Severus.  Tea?"

            I nodded, not exactly in the mood for conversation so early.  Albus, however, seemed unaware of my proclivity for not speaking in the morning.

            "I was listening to the radio last night, and they had a woman on who claims she can see the future.  She said that very soon the students and nurses of Czech will rise up and push the Russians out.  Isn't that wonderful?" He placed a cup of tea in front of me.

            "Is what wonderful, Albus? The fact she thinks she can see the future, or the fact that you actually believe what she says?"

            Albus chuckled,

            "This from the man who so vehemently refused to decorate his windows for so long?  I thought you'd be happy to hear such a thing."

            I sighed,

            "I suppose I should be, Albus, but I suppose my mind is a bit preoccupied."

            "About Harry?"

            "Of course about Harry, the boy- Wait a minute, how did you know?"

            Albus chuckled again, a sound that was beginning to irritate me,

            "It's the very reason you're here, isn't it?  To see that the boy isn't taken away from you?  Obviously you care very much for him."

            "Hmm," was my response.

            "And what's more, I think he cares for you as well."

            I paused in sipping my tea,

            "Cares for me?  What do you mean?"

            "You know what I mean, Severus.  Even if you think you don't know."

            I opened my mouth to rebut the statement, when another voice spoke,

            "Good morning."

            I turned to the doorway, slowly taking in Harry's appearance.  How could anyone look so good having just woken up?  It boggled my mind, not to mention stirred my groin.

            "Good morning, Harry?  Did you sleep well?"  Albus addressed him.

            Harry smiled, looking to me,

            "Of course."  He walked to me, kissed me on the cheek and took a seat at the table,

            "Good morning, Severus."

            I smiled a bit to him, picking up Albus's discarded newspaper.  Before I could raise it fully in front of my face, Albus gave me a look over the top that seemed to read, "I told you so."

            It was late in the afternoon that Albus's phone rang.  I could hear him speaking from my place in his living room,

            "Hello? Yes.  Oh my, Hello.  Well, yes, I do; he's here, actually.  Is that so?  Well, not that I don't doubt she misses him, but- Oh.  I see.  Well, in that case, it's really not necessary; he is quite- Ah.  Well, when, then?  Ah-ha.  Alright, I will see to it, then. Mm-hmm.  Good-bye."

            Albus walked into the room where I sat reading with Harry watching the television beside me,

            "I'm afraid I have some rather disturbing news, Severus."

            I frowned, putting my book down,

            "What is it?"

            "That was Petuniya's husband on the telephone.  It seems Petuniya is coming back for Harry."

            Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed; you really do inspire me to continue the story.  Sorry about my penchant for cliffhangers, but, what can I say?  I've given more thought to putting some Harry and Sev smut into the story, but something tells me I'll have to work up some courage to write that ^ ^U.  Anyway, I hope everyone liked this chapter, and I'll squeeze the new one out as soon as humanly possible. 

                                                                                                                        ~Vero


	6. final chapter

            It was the night before I was to take Harry to see Petuniya that it happened.  The three of us, Harry, Albus and I, were listening to the radio.

            "…The riot police were called out and the students began singing the national anthem, but they were beaten.  The Prague University students are asking everyone to demonstrate…"

            Albus sat up in his chair.

            "It's happened, Severus!  We should be there, come on!"

            That's how I ended up in a mass of Czechs, flags waving and keys jangling, chanting,

            "It finally happened!"

            As I stood among the crowd, I saw the two officers that had interrogated me.  They recognized me and smiled and waved.  I guess I understood then why they'd been so upset that I'd granted a Russian woman citizenship by marrying her.  

            Harry was celebrating along with us, not caring that we were cheering the toppling of his own native country's power in our land.  He looked up to me with a bright smile, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

            When we returned to Albus's and climbed into bed, Harry hugged me and said, 

            "I love you, Severus."

            Much to my surprise, I replied readily with,

            "I love you, too."

            Harry gave me that curious look, his arms still around my shoulders, before closing the distance between us to peck me on the mouth.  I looked at me curiously again as he pulled back, his expression asking whether he had done something wrong.  I smiled softly at him and pulled him back to me, cupping his face with one hand and kissing him soundly.  Harry kissed me back with alacrity, making up for his obvious lack of technique with his enthusiasm.  When we finally came up for air, he smiled at me, saying,

            "I've waited so long to do that."

            "So have I," I replied.

            "Will you… do more?"

            "Are you asking me to make love to you?"

            Harry blushed but nodded.

            "Of course," I told him.

            I loved Harry long into the night, waking up late the next morning to find Albus sitting at his place at the kitchen table looking smug.  I sat down across from him, raising an eyebrow,

            "I should be half as smug as you are."

            Albus chuckled,

            "What can I say but 'I told you so?'"

            "Hmm," was my only reply. 

            I walked hand in hand with Harry to the terminal where his aunt would be arriving.  We stood there watching for her as people exited the plane she'd been on.  She finally appeared, looking flustered, and took notice of us.  She approached us and looked to me.  I thought this would be interesting.

            "I have learn some Czech from my husband."

            I smirked imperceptibly,

            "How nice."

            "May us sit down?"

            "Certainly."

            We moved to a small café inside the airport.  Petuniya slid an envelope across the table to me.  I looked inside:  it was filled with money.  I slid it back across the table, and she looked confused,

            "For your trouble."

            "It's not necessary.  He was no trouble."

            She scoffed, but shrugged and put the money back in her pocket,

            "I understand my aunt pass away…?"

            I nodded,

            "Yes.  I was able to afford a service for her, but nothing elaborate."

            "That is alright.  I am glad.  I suppose we be going now?"  She looked to Harry who grabbed my hand under the table.  I squeezed reassuringly before speaking,

            "Actually, I was hoping you might consider letting Harry stay here."

            She looked nonplussed,

            "I am not sure I am understanding.  You want I leave Harry?"

            I nodded,

            "Yes."

            She shook her head as if trying to clear it and looked at me with a furrowed brow,

            "Why?"

            I sighed,

            "Because I'd rather have him stay here where I know he's being taken care of."

            Petuniya seemed insulted,  
            "I take care of him; he is my responsibility."

            I frowned,

            "I know that, but to me he is more than just a responsibility.  I… care about him."

            She didn't seem to know what to say to that.  Finally, she responded,

            "Well…  If you are sure… Then I will leave him to you."

            "I am very sure."

            She nodded, standing up.  She extended her hand to me and I shook it, then looked to Harry curiously.  At length, she bent down to hug him slightly.

            "Good bye, then, Harry, Mr. Snape."

            Harry and I both said good bye, then turned to walk out of the airport, once again hand in hand.

            I went on to be rehired in the Czech philharmonic and now play in it regularly.  Harry still lives with me, and we love each other as much as a fifteen-year-old young man and an old male cellist can love each other. 

                                                            ~the end.

            Much thanks again to all who reviewed and a sound apology to anyone who was hoping for smut: I just couldn't get up the nerve ^^U.  I recently got my own copy of the film I based this on; apparently it won an academy award o.o  Who knew? Oh, well, I hope you liked my version of it, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't see the original.  It's very good. (See 'Kolya'!)


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